We Were Survivors
by Jakob the Girl
Summary: Full Summery inside. Rated M for the naughty things my mind comes up with. This is a story centered around an OC, don't like don't read. Parings; Daryl/OC, Maggie/Glenn.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_**[Disclaimer; I do not own The Walking Dead. If I did, I would be rich, and likely have better things to do with my time then play with my over active imagination. But as it is, I'm poor, and writing stories for shows I only wish I could be a part of is a cheep way to get a thrill. Hope you enjoy!]**_

_**[Summery; to start off, fair warning, I spell like a third grader. True, spell check dose exist, but that doesn't mean I have it right, so be ready for it. I tried hard to make sure this was okay, but I am human and prone to fail. Regardless, onto the point, I hate these things. It always feels like I have to tell you some of the story before it's written, and if your like me, these things tend to take on a life on their own, but I suppose I must say something to peek your interest so lets start with premiss, this shouldn't change. Takes place after the prison and the end of season three, so if you haven't seen it this will contain spoilers. Just as Rick and the others are getting all their new additions settled in the prison, another group of survivors show up, running from their own human problem. Like I said, this story will have a life of it's own so saying to much more may lead to me telling a lie. Anyway, the pairings are Daryl/OC, Glenn/Maggie, and likely others, but not sure of them yet. This is rated M so be forewarned. I do hope you all enjoy, and please do not forget to review. Their like candy and give me a sugar high, so the more the better.]**_

They where going to die down here, in these tunnels, surrounded by these men and walkers. There was no where to run, no one was going to save them, and yet Daryl could not, for the life of him, think of a better way to go.

He watched as Fred hissed the pain of the gun shot wound in her arm between her teeth as she slammed her last magazine home. In a matter of moments they would be out of ammo, and would be stuck waiting for the end, surrounded by the dead, dying, and living dead. They would fit right in when all was said and done.

"Fred," he sighed out, watching as she chanced a glance around the corner, concrete splatting where her head had been mili-seconds before. They were going to die in these tunnels. Either these crazed assholes where going to get them, or the walkers where going to find their way over. One way or the other, they were going to die, and all he wanted to do was look into her eyes one last time.

"Fred," he called again, drawing her gaze at last. There, in the depths of her blue, green and yellow orbs he saw every memory they made, every fight they lived through, everything he was before her, and everything they could have been if they had only not gone into the tunnels. He saw the past, he saw the future, and he saw the present. Despite the fact he knew they where going to die, he still could not think of a better way to go. She was there, he had his crossbow, and he had at least taken a dozen of the fuckers with him, and more would find their way to death before the end.

He watched as her hand found its way to his cheek, thumb running softly just below his eye. A small, sad, but content smile found her lips. "Make them bleed for every inch," she said softly, quoting him.

Catching her hand in his own, and softly kissing the backside of her fingers, he replied with a quote of her own, "Feed them to the vampires after we've taken their heads for trophies," earning that smile. The smile she had only for him, the one full off pain, promising love, understanding, and companionship.

"Ready Daryl?" she asked, slowly sliding her back up the wall till she was standing at full height.

"Always, Winifred," he replied, slowly pushing his own way up, his eyes not leaving hers for a moment.

Time slowed then, their eyes locked as they took their last fill of one another, speaking without words as they often chose to do. The sound of gun fire, the spray of concrete as it was blasted away from the wall by a man who couldn't shoot straight, and the cry of the dead, and dying all blended into one sound, one noise. Fred had once called it their song. The moment when the two of them where closest was the moment where they could easily die. Death, guns, and blood. It wasn't perfect, hell, it wasn't what other people even wanted, but it was theirs, and they would not apologize for that.

When at last there was another pause in gun fire, the two of them jumped around the corner. Shot to the head on one man, arrow in the eye of another before the bullets where once more piercing the air trying to find their mark.

They where going to die down here, in these tunnels, surrounded by these men and walkers. There was no where to run, no one was going to save them, and yet Daryl could not, for the life of him, think of a better way to go.

_**[AN; I love death scenes between lovers. Wither Romeo and Juliet is to blame for that, or I'm just morbid is up for debate, but love them I do. They make some of the best Character growth, even if they're not gunna live to make use of it. This is a flash forward prologue, if you couldn't figure that out, and the rest of the story will be building up to this point. Your guess about how they get here is as good as mine. Like I said, these things like to take on their own path. Hope you enjoyed what little I managed to put in here. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is more then welcome, but please, no flames. I hate getting them just as much as you do, so please, don't be cruel for the sake of cruelty.]**_


	2. Chapter 1

**Ch. 1**

_**[Disclaimer; I do not own The Walking Dead. If I did, I would be rich, and likely have better things to do with my time then play with my over active imagination. But as it is, I'm poor, and writing stories for shows I only wish I could be a part of is a cheep way to get a thrill. Hope you enjoy!]**_

Daryl allowed his gaze to bounce from one member of his gathered group to the next, his body twitching just enough to feel the weight of his crossbow slide along his back. With the addition of all these people, 90% of which could do little but sit around and due nothing due to their health or age, their list of work grew ten fold. Food supplies would run out in the month if they didn't stock up, and with the yard overrun, getting a garden going seemed out of the question. Water was also an issue, and who would run watch. If even one of them was loyal to the Governor still, unlikely considering his roadside massacre, then they could all have their throats slit by morning. They where all in a bad spot. They would either starve to death, get eaten by walkers, or end up gunned down by that eye-patch wearing psycho.

"Me and Maggie can make a run," offered Glenn, one arm circled around his Fiance.

"Even if yall could find anythin' that only helps the now. What about latter?" Daryl asked drawing everyone's gaze to him for a moment. "If we don' clear that yard out we ain't gunna make the winter. Not with all these old bastards." He didn't really have anything against helping these people out, he only had to look at them to know they wouldn't last a day out on their own, but that didn't mean he didn't have a point. All these mouths and only a little over half a dozen people to work out the details. Supplies where going to get strained fast, and when people get hungry, they get angry as well. They could soon have a slaughter on their hands, all over a few bits of grub.

Rick ran his fingers roughly through his hair, the stress pulling at his all to delicate sanity. He had only just recently stopped seeing his dead wife. "Make the run," he sighed out. "Daryl's right though. Unless we can get a garden of some sort going we're not going to survive here much longer. We need a constant and definite food supply."

Glenn and Maggie nodded before turning away, leaving just Hershel, Rick and Daryl to work out the rest.

"We need more fighters," added in the Southern boy, turning his attention back to their leader. "Just us, even against the walkers, ain't gunna last long. Don' even wanna think about what will happen if the Governor gets more men and comes back."

"We'll cross that bridge if, and when we get there," added Hershel, "for now we need to get to work on how to feed everyone."

"I can't feed all these folk on squirrel."

Both men stared at Rick, waiting to hear his thoughts. As they watched, they could almost see his mind working, running through a thousand different little details before he decided on anything. They didn't have much to work with, and even less people to do the work, but they had no choice but to keep going. Laying down in the dirt and waiting to die was not in the character of any of these men.

"Daryl, take Carol, see what you can hunt down. If we're lucky there may be a few animals around. I'll take Michonne out and we'll see what we have in the way of water, and get a good look around the perimeter. Hershel, hold down the fort, everything's quite for now, and if we're lucky it will stay that way," Rick said, with all the authority and power of a police officer, a tone that used to piss Daryl off to no end, but couldn't help but find encouraging now. "Let's all try to make it back before dark," the sheriff added at the last moment, raising his voice enough that Glenn and Maggie, on the other side of the room, could hear.

Nodding their understanding, the men parted ways, setting about their work. It wasn't hard for Daryl to find Carol. Despite all the new bodies and the constant movement between cell blocks, she was never far. It was obvious to him the older woman had developed feelings for him during his hunt for her daughter, and to say he wasn't flattered would be an out and out lie. If the woman ever came up and asked for him to take her in bad ways, he would be more then willing to oblige, but he was not about to push the issue himself. While he missed sex, putting it in the middle of anything always made shit tough, and shit was already fucked enough.

"Hey," she called, that warm inviting smile lifting the corners of her lips. He always thought it was to kind a gesture for him, but she gave it to him regardless.

"Feel like huntin'?" he asked, stopping just a few feet from her his own small smirk in place. He couldn't help but smile around her. She made him feel needed, useful. He know the rest of the group depended on him, but not like Carol did.

"Anything to get away," she replied, her smile growing wider.

"Good," he couldn't help but almost chuckle at her excitement, "grab your gear, I'll meet ya by the gate."

She nodded, before turning to leave, flashing him one last big smile. Adjusting the strap for his crossbow, Daryl watched her go for a ways before heading outside. He wasn't in love with the older woman, he had no delusions about that, but he knew he cared about her, a lot. She was special to him, even among their original group, she was different. He didn't have a label for it, wasn't sure he needed one, but that really didn't matter. As long as she was around he was content.

Outside by the gate stood Carl and those two black siblings, Sasha and Tyreese. They were speaking in quiet, but not hushed tones. The kind you used when your conversation wasn't private, but you would rather not draw the attention of every walker for two miles.

"...can do to help," was all Daryl caught before he reached them.

"You can start by openen' that gate when I give yall the say so," the sourthen boy called out, still speaking in soft tones as not to draw attention. While there was a gate between them and the walking dead, it was probably best none of them drew them all to one spot. "And keepen' this place standin till we get back."

"We can do that," the male replied, his sister nodding along with him.

"We're just grateful you took us in," commented the girl.

"We wasnt about ta take all those old assholes and leave two extra hands behind. Hell, we need all the help we can get," was Daryl's reply, his shoulders shrugging slightly.

"Just the same," replied Sasha, "thank you."

"Ah hell, yall should be thanken' Rick. Was his decision," the southern boy replied, glancing to the ground. While it was a common consensus among their original group that Daryl could not blush, it was known that his looking down was his way of showing embarrassment.

The crunch of wheals on gravel alerted the four to Glenn and Maggie just pulling up. All six of them would ride outside the gate and then part ways as each of them had different goals.

"Everythin is loaded up and ready to go," called Maggie, pulling herself out of the car. "Just waitin on the others." While her accent wasn't very pronounced you could still hear a trace of it in the way she shortened words.

"We're going to need to get some gas while we're out," called Glenn, now walking around to the front of the car. "This one's low and I'd rather not have to get any from the others in case we need to make a break for it." No one was planning to go anywhere, but the farm had taught them to have a back up plan ready in case shit went bad, fast.

"Alright," nodded Daryl, just as Rick, followed by Michonne, emerged from the shaded doorway to cell block C.

"Just waiting for Carol then?" spoke Rick, more making a statement then asking a question.

"I wanna go," chirped in Carl, his demands to be right in the middle of the action growing more and more in frequency. "I'm a good shoot, and you could use the help dad."

"Yes, but..." replied Rick, pulling his son to the side to have a chat. Everyone could guess just what was being said, but no one paid it any mind. This was between those two, and no business of anyone else.

"Sorry to make you all wait," called Carol, her exit having been missed as she was now within a few feet of the group.

~We Were Survivors~

They'd been at it for little over two hours when they caught a break and landed a dear. While it was small, and looked half starved it would feed a hell of a lot more people then three squirrels they had managed to bag. All together it wasn't a bad trip, a walker here and there, but not nothing the two of them couldn't handle.

"Do you think there are any onions left over, I could make this dear into some real fine stew that would last a lot longer," thought Carol aloud, more speaking to herself the Daryl.

He didn't mind, he was used to these sorts of things with her. If she wanted his opinion, or him to even speak, she would ask. It was nice not to have to guess with her. True, the rest of the group had begun to pick up on his silence as habit thing, but she was the one that got it, and didn't mind. He kinda thought she liked it that way.

"Of course, any amount of potato or carrot would go along to help the flavor," she continued, her eyes scanning the surrounding bush for signs of movement. A habit she picked up from him and all their hunting trips.

His own eyes didn't rest, his ears strained, attuned to even the slightest noise. Be it another animal ripe for the picking, or a walker, he would know they where there before they knew he was there, even with Carol's chatter. He had grown used to hearing over her. While it worked better if she was quiet he could still manage with her speaking.

"If I can pull enough together I may be able to make enough for a few days, at least. Well... assuming everyone eats lightly."

A small flash of white passed between the trees a good distance ahead of the two, and Daryl's hand shot out on instinct pulling Carol back behind himself. Slowly, the two of them lowered to the ground and edged over to a patch of shrubbery just tall enough to hide their crouching form. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, huddled down, keeping their breathing slow and even as the strained their ears to catch even a hint of sound.

Slowly, but surely, a walker emerged from the tree line, its light growing sound barely audible from their distance. It was a small girl, not likely older then ten, wearing what looked like a white night gown, now covered in brown splotches of mud, and a few streaks of red, likely blood.

Daryl could feel Carol tense beside him. The sight of a young girl, dead and walking around like that had always been harder on the older woman after the farm. It was a bad way to loose a kid, and her own pain was still pretty fresh.

All of a sudden the walker came to a halt and began turning in their direction. From this distance the thing should not be able to smell them, but like with all walkers they always had a way of finding you. Just as Daryl began to level his cross bow, another flash of color emerged form the tree line, this one a darker red then the flesh blood coloring the gown of walker. Seconds latter a head fell from shoulders and a woman sheathed what looked like a machete.

The flash of red was the woman's hair, stretching down to her knees, and falling out of the once tight braid she seemed to use to contain such an amount of hair. She stood just south of six feet, her body thin from a combo of malnourishment and constant running. Her breathing was heavy, as though she had spent the day running, and or fighting for her life.

From behind her in the tree line emerged another human, a similar machete clutched in his hand as he glanced down at the corpse before skirting it to reach the female. He stood somewhere in the middle of six feet, probably on the positive side of the half, edging towards seven feet. He was lanky, not nearly in as good as shape, but not quite as out of breath as his companion.

Just as three others emerged from the tree line Daryl notice the eyes of the first female locked on their location, as though staring right at him. From this far he couldn't be sure, but he could almost swear he felt her looking at him. Who ever the other three were, he couldn't find the will to care. The way she held his gaze had every ounce of his attention.

There was a murmur of voices kept low, and too far off to hear before her eyes finally moved form them and to the rest of her companions. She seemed to say just a few short words before turning towards the direction the young dead girl had been heading, and walking off. The same direction as the prison If she had seen them, or even if the others noticed her long stare out off into no where, both he and Carol were ignored, and before long left once again to the silence.

After waiting a little longer then they really needed too, Daryl allowed the two of them to emerge, his eyes and ears strained for any sign anything was coming for them. His legs where stiff and his knees ached form sitting prone for too long, but after their last encounter with people went, we would take sore over dead.

"Do you think they'll head for the prison?" asked Carol, her voice a very feint whisper. He hadn't even noticed she had latched onto him, two of her arms wrapped around his left, her mouth mere inches from his ear.

"Not sure," was his reply, his own voice just loud enough to hear, "Come on." Tugging lightly with his arm he pulled free and began leading the way to wear they were supposed to meet the car. Even though she was worried Carol knew better then to pin down on the archers arms. He needed them, and if something went down there would be no time for her to cower. It was the only thing about her he didn't really like, but he didn't have time to dwell on that now. They needed to get back to the others, and fast.

~We Were Survivors~

Rick and Michonne were the last to make it back, electing instead to fight their way though the bowls of the prison trying to map the way the walkers where getting in. If anyone else had attempted it, except Daryl of course, they would likely be dead. Everyone from the farm had gathered in a small circle eating the venison stew Carol had made as everyone went over their day. Of course the hunting trip was foremost on everyone's mind.

"You sure you only saw five?" Rick asked, keeping his voice low, as not to attract the attention of their guests.

"From what I could tell the red head was their leader," provided Daryl, electing to lean against the wall then sit at the table like the rest. He preferred to be ready, and sitting made it feel as though he was not pulling his weight. "Though I didn't get that great a look at um."

"And they were headed this way?" the Sheriff asked again. He had been running through this hole list of questions for about 10 minuets now, and they were all getting tired of repeating the answers.

"That's what I said it looked like," snapped Daryl, instantly breathing out a small apology after. He knew they were all tense, and letting himself go like that was not going to help.

"The red head did stare at us for a while... Well... It felt like she was staring at us," came Carol's calm voice, trying to take over for the hot blooded southern boy.

"She knew you where there?" asked Michonne, also standing, though she wasn't leaning against the wall.

"Not sure," replied Daryl, running the fingers of his right hand through his hair. "If she did, she didn let her group know. It might be cause she's as lerry about people as we are, or she jus' didn' see us and was merely spacin out."

"That could be," nodded Rick, "Though I'd rather post an extra set of eyes on watch, just to be sure."

The sun had already begun it's slow decent in the horizon, the outside world glowing slightly gold as a result. The fading light streaked through the windows highlighting all the faces gathered in the newly cleared and secured cafeteria.

The rest of the meal was spent in an odd silence. While no one wanted to believe there could be another human threat just around the corner experience taught them that that was more then likely.

Knowing he had middle watch, the worst one, Daryl excused himself to get some shut eye. All the while his mind kept going back to that moment, and those eyes, watching him. There was something about them he just could not put his finger on, but could sense. Something he wished he had the chance to learn more about, while at the same time, he was glad he didn't have to learn. Whatever that girl had been through to get to that point, whatever she was thinking to lead her and her companions that far, it was strong, and it had left a scar. Sure, likely a few on the surface, but the biggest down underneath it all. He didn't know if he admired her for it, or feared her. Either way he wouldn't get answers now, and knew he needed sleep. He could always ponder on it more at watch the next day.

_**[AN; Yippy! Chapter 1 done and ready for consumption. This will be the last thing I post for the next week as I would like to space this all out, but I figured most people wouldn't form an opinion on my story till they read this. It has a bit more depth and shows off a little more of my writing style. Hopefully you enjoyed, and, as always, review. Any advice is more then welcome, and I do enjoy those simple, "good work, keep going", reviews. Makes me all mushy inside.]**_


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